


Spring Secrets

by DeathBelle



Series: Seasons [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Jacket sharing, Kissing, M/M, Secret Relationship, Takes place during Spring High Tournament, canonverse, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24507727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: They stared down at the city lights below, dotted along the sidewalks and blurring by with passing cars. There was another hotel right across the street, and although most of the windows were dark, a scattered few glowed. Osamu wondered if the people inside were sitting awake too.“Osamu.”He turned his head and Suna was there, waiting. His mouth found Osamu’s and his lips were a little cold. Suna kissed him, and Osamu forgot about the tournament, about winning, about everything. It didn’t seem as important here on the roof, holding Suna’s hand and sharing a wind-chilled kiss.Suna pulled away, and Osamu said, “We should tell ‘em.”Suna sighed and slouched a little further over the rail. “How about… after the tournament. After we win, we’ll tell them. Everyone will be so happy that they won’t care what we’re doing.”“Okay,” said Osamu. “When they give us the trophy, I’m just gonna kiss ya right there in front of everybody. That’ll be us tellin’ ‘em.”“I don’t believe you,” said Suna. There was a spark in his eyes, a little amused, a little daring. “Prove me wrong.”
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: Seasons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770862
Comments: 47
Kudos: 939
Collections: OsaSuna Week 2020, SunaOsa





	Spring Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a four-part series for Osasuna week! All the fics go together, but each one can be read as a standalone, too.
> 
> This one is for the Day 2 prompt: Midnight/Secrets.

Sleep had never been a problem for Osamu. He could pass out anytime, anywhere. It was a gift, but with a brother like Atsumu who tended to take advantage of his midday naps by drawing on his face or taking obnoxious pictures, it was sometimes a curse, too.

Tonight it was a gift, because while his teammates had been rolling around in their futons with the restless energy of an upcoming match, Osamu had lied down and drifted off immediately. It helped that he wasn’t nervous. He didn’t get nervous the same way Atsumu did, pacing around in circles and bragging about his skills as if the volume of his own voice could choke out his anxiety. Osamu took things in stride. They would play and do their best and win, and staying up all night worrying over it wouldn’t make a difference.

When he woke up sometime in the early hours of the morning, swallowed by gray darkness and weighed down with exhaustion, he didn’t know why he wasn’t still sleeping. No one was moving or talking or snoring too loudly. 

Osamu rolled to his left and squinted through the dark. The futon beside him was empty, the blanket crumpled into an abandoned ball.

Osamu closed his eyes again, but only for a moment. He pushed himself upright and it felt like heaving himself out of a swamp. His limbs were heavy, half of his face was numb, and he wanted to collapse.

But this was one of the few things more important than sleep.

He grabbed his jacket, tossed it over his shoulder, and crept quietly to the door. 

The light of the hotel hallway was too bright and Osamu shielded his eyes against it as he wandered along. He passed the room where their coach was sleeping and knew he would catch a lecture if he was caught roaming around like this. He kept his steps slow and quiet as he shuffled past and pushed through the door at the end of the hall.

The stairwell was eerie at night. The fluorescent lights flickered as Osamu climbed, toes scuffing against the edges of the steps because he was too tired to lift his feet. Their room was already near the top floor, so the climb to the roof was short. They’d explored it the night before, with Atsumu shouting over the edge at the perspectively small pedestrians below and Kita tugging him away by the back of his shirt. Osamu had considered giving Atsumu a gentle nudge over the edge. His life would be quieter. He hadn’t said that out loud, but he hadn’t needed to. Suna had given him a look, with a quirk of his mouth and of his eyebrow, that suggested he knew exactly what Osamu was thinking. 

Suna usually knew, which was fine, because Osamu was getting better at guessing the things in Suna’s head, too.

That was why he was unsurprised to find Suna leaning on the rail of the roof, his hair tousled from hours of tossing around in pursuit of sleep.

Sleep had never been a problem for Osamu, but Suna couldn’t say the same.

Osamu stepped up beside him quietly and draped his arms across the cool rail in a mirror of Suna’s. Suna cut a weary glance at him. It was dark, but not dark enough for Osamu to miss the tired circles underneath Suna’s eyes. He probably hadn’t slept much the night before, either. He never did during tournaments, although Osamu couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t as if he had anything to worry about. Osamu had never seen Suna perform poorly in a match.

“You should be in bed,” said Suna. His voice was a little lost to the wind, but Osamu heard him clearly.

“Hypocritical, comin’ from you,” said Osamu. He moved a little closer and nudged Suna’s forearm with his own. It was cool to the touch. He wondered how long Suna had been standing out here while Osamu had been obliviously asleep.

Osamu shrugged the jacket off of his shoulder and pushed it at Suna. He didn’t take it, so Osamu draped it over him before leaning on the rail again.

“You slept at all?” asked Osamu

Suna hummed in a way that was entirely noncommittal.

“How long you been out here?” said Osamu. “It’s kinda cold.”

“It’s not bad.”

Osamu raised a hand to touch the back of his fingers against Suna’s cheek. “Yer a liar. You tryin’ to get sick before the match tomorrow?”

Suna leaned away from him. “Today. It’s after midnight.”

“You are, then?”

“No, of course I’m not. I was just tired of watching you sleep when I couldn’t.”

“You were watchin’ me sleep? In a romantic way or a creepy way?”

Suna smiled. It softened his face, made his eyes warmer. “Take your pick.”

“Hmm.” Osamu slipped an arm through Suna’s and eased closer, their shoulders brushing, hips bumping. “I’m gonna go with creepy.”

Suna laughed, low and sweet. “Good choice.”

“You havin’ a crisis or somethin’ out here?”

Suna rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. Just… awake. You know.”

Osamu did know. This, or something similar, happened every time they went out of town for training or a tournament. Suna was constantly restless. Osamu had never decided for sure if it was nerves or homesickness, but he thought it must have been the former. Suna wasn’t even from Hyogo; there was no reason he should be homesick for it. 

“You worried about the match?” asked Osamu.

“Against Karasuno?” said Suna, skeptical. “No. We’ll obviously win. They don’t stand a chance.”

If Atsumu had said something like that, it would have sounded cocky and unbearable. But Suna only sounded confident, self-assured, and Osamu smiled. 

“Yeah,” he said, “you’re right. We’ll win, unless one of our middle blockers passes out in the middle of the game because he didn’t get any sleep.”

“If we lost it won’t be because of me.” He cut a sharp look at Osamu, but there was an amused curl at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve played tougher games on less sleep than this. I’ll knock back some coffee and be fine.”

Osamu’s nose wrinkled and Suna laughed.

Osamu liked when Suna laughed, even a tired laugh like this.

“Come downstairs and at least try and get some sleep,” said Osamu. He tapped the back of Suna’s hand. “I’ll sing a lullaby if ya want.”

“Please don’t.” Suna turned his hand over and threaded his fingers through Osamu’s. They were cold. Osamu wrapped his other hand around Suna’s too, to try and warm it up. “No offense, but I’d probably never sleep again.”

Osamu grinned. “Ya don’t think I have a good voice? That hurts, Rintarou.”

Suna squeezed Osamu’s hand, gently. “You’re good at other things.”

“Like what?”

“Sleeping.”

Osamu leaned into Suna and laughed. “Thanks. Ya really know how to give a compliment.”

Suna pulled the collar of Osamu’s jacket closer around his neck. It was probably Osamu’s jacket, at least. It might have been Atsumu’s, or it may have even been Suna’s. Osamu had found that his wardrobe was never strictly his own. 

They stared down at the city lights below, dotted along the sidewalks and blurring by with passing cars. There was another hotel right across the street, and although most of the windows were dark, a scattered few glowed. Osamu wondered if the people inside were sitting awake too.

“I wish…” Suna’s voice trailed off, carried away on the breeze. He pressed nearer to Osamu, maybe to escape the bite of the wind, maybe because he just wanted to be close. “I wish we could sleep together. The way we do when you stay over.”

Osamu thought of warm nights sprawled in Suna’s bed with overlapping limbs and late night whispers. He thought of lying awake, of Suna’s fingers dancing gently along the line of his jaw, of threading his own fingers through Suna’s hair. He thought of the first time he’d ever fought against sleep, because Suna had looked so relaxed and at peace that he hadn’t wanted to close his eyes.

They could only do that on the nights Osamu slept over at the Suna household. Suna stayed over with him sometimes, but they had to keep their distance. They couldn’t expect even a moment of privacy with Atsumu around.

And Atsumu didn’t know. No one knew. Osamu wished it wasn’t a secret, so they didn’t have to hide it, so they could push their futons together in their hotel room downstairs and share each other’s warmth.

Maybe Suna would be sleeping then, instead of standing out here cold and alone and restless.

“We should tell ‘em,” said Osamu. It wasn’t the first time they’d talked about it, but at the end of every conversation, they came to the same conclusion.

Some of their teammates would be fine with it, but there was a possibility that some of them wouldn’t. It could affect the dynamic of the team, and they’d worked so hard to get where they are that neither of them wanted to risk ruining it.

Osamu thought Atsumu would be the worst. Osamu had never even told his brother that he was gay, and he’d especially never mentioned that he and Suna had been dating since the end of their first year. Maybe Atsumu would surprise him and take the news well, but Osamu couldn’t be sure. Atsumu was rude and dramatic at the best of times.

“Maybe we should,” said Suna. He looked down at the street below, hair falling into his eyes. “Or maybe we shouldn’t. I don’t know.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” said Osamu, although that had never been the issue.

“Neither am I.” 

“If they take it bad,” said Osamu, “that’s on them. We’re not doin’ anything wrong.”

“We’re not,” agreed Suna. He tossed his head and blinked stray strands of hair out of his lashes. “But you’re still worried. Especially about your brother.”

Osamu had never said that out loud, but of course Suna knew anyway. “Just a little bit.”

“I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit,” said Suna. “He’ll probably make a scene, but that’s just how he is. He’ll get over it and move on. He cares more about you than he does about who you’re dating.” Suna paused and made a sour face. “Complimenting him feels wrong.”

Osamu chuckled. “Yeah, it does. Let’s never do it again.”

“Deal.” Suna slouched a little further over the rail. “How about… after the tournament. After we win, we’ll tell them. Everyone will be so happy about winning that they won’t care what we’re doing.”

Osamu didn’t think Suna was serious. He was just talking for the sake of it, the same as they’d talked about this so many times before.

But maybe he meant it. 

“Okay,” said Osamu. “When they give us the trophy, I’m just gonna kiss ya right there in front of everybody. That’ll be us tellin’ ‘em.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Suna. There was a spark in his eyes, a little amused, a little daring. “Prove me wrong.”

“Fine. I will.” Osamu thought of it, of having Inarizaki announced as the winners and lining up to the sound of applause, of accepting the trophy, of turning Suna around by the shoulder and kissing him in the middle of the auditorium, bold and unashamed. 

He wanted to. He really did. 

He wondered if he was brave enough.

“Osamu.”

He turned his head and Suna was there, waiting. His mouth found Osamu’s and his lips were a little cold. Suna kissed him, and Osamu forgot about the tournament, about winning, about everything. It didn’t seem as important here on the roof, holding Suna’s hand and sharing a wind-chilled kiss.

Suna pulled back, left a brush of lips across Osamu’s cheek, and said, “I think I can sleep now.”

“You sure? I’ll still sing ya that lullaby.”

Suna made a face and Osamu leaned in to kiss him one more time.

“C’mon, then.” Osamu pulled away from the rail but held onto Suna’s hand. “You can at least get a couple hours.”

“Maybe.” 

The stairwell wasn’t warm, but it was better than standing in the open air. Suna shivered and shoved his arms into the sleeve of the borrowed jacket. He reached for Osamu’s hand again and kept it as they went downstairs, crept down the hall, and slipped back into their hotel room.

Before they laid down Osamu tugged Suna’s futon closer, just a little. It was the best they could do for now. They settled in, and when he reached over the edge, he found Suna’s hand waiting. Osamu watched him through bleary eyes, and even through the shadows, he saw the moment Suna dozed off.

He wished they could be closer, that he could feel Suna’s body heat and put a hand on Suna’s chest to track the gentle rise and fall of his breaths.

Osamu closed his eyes. 

He decided he would do it. The fallout didn’t matter, not as much as Suna did. He would kiss Suna in the middle of the awards ceremony and not care who saw. 

Osamu would do it. 

Suna’s fingers slipped away as Osamu fell asleep.

Everything would work out perfectly. All they had to do was win. 

  
  
  
  


There was an awards ceremony after the tournament. Osamu was there with the rest of Inarizaki.

But they were in the audience, watching some other team get the trophy that should have been theirs.

“Unbelievable,” grumbled Atsumu for the fifth time. “Karasuno beat us like that and then didn’t even win. If we’d been up against anybody else we would’ve stomped ‘em. Put us up against any of these guys and we would’ve won. It was just a fluke they beat us. Beginner’s luck. If we had one more chance we could take ‘em.”

“Shut up, ‘Tsumu.”

“Make me, ‘Samu.”

Osamu wanted to make him, preferably with a fist to his stupid pouting face, but it wasn’t necessary. Kita leaned over and gave Atsumu a simple, impassive look that immediately made him go quiet.

Osamu stared down at the court as the rest of the audience applauded. Inarizaki didn’t. It seemed the entire team was equally as bitter as Atsumu, even if they were better at hiding it.

On Osamu’s right, Suna sank further back into his seat, slouching in a way that should have been uncomfortable. He looked exhausted. They hadn’t had a match today, so there should have been no stress to keep him awake, but the dark circles beneath his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept anyway. He would probably fall asleep on the bus, like he’d done after their last tournament. He’d nodded off against Osamu’s shoulder and Osamu had spent the entire ride trying not to move so he wouldn't wake him by accident. 

Osamu thought about standing on the roof two nights ago, kissing cold lips and making promises he hadn’t been able to keep.

The loss was disappointing. Much like the rest of the team, Osamu liked to win, even if he didn’t thrive on the game quite as much as his brother. It was disappointing, but not as disappointing as losing the chance to kiss Suna in the middle of the court with a trophy in his hand. 

Osamu slipped a glance toward him. Suna’s arms were folded and the sideways curl of his frown was sullen. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else than here.

Osamu nudged Suna’s knee with his own. Suna didn’t look at him, but he shifted the slightest bit closer, his shoulder brushing Osamu’s.

The awards ceremony continued, but Osamu didn’t see it. He didn’t stop looking at Suna. 

“Come on,” said Kita, as soon as it was polite to leave without giving anyone the impression that they were sore losers. “Let’s get to the bus before traffic gets too bad. It’s a long ride back home.”

The team did as he said, rising and merging into the rest of the crowd trickling toward the exit. Osamu stared at the back of Suna’s head as they walked. The others talked, more subdued than usual, but Osamu had nothing to say.

The number of running vehicles in the parking lot suggested it would be a long time before they reached the main road, and even longer before they were back in Hyogo. Osamu wasn’t looking forward to the trip. He just wanted to be in his bed. Or preferably Suna’s bed, so they could lie together and not have to think about this fresh disappointment.

Atsumu shoved past him to get to the bus first and Osamu shoved him back, hard enough to make him stumble. Atsumu flipped him off and leapt up the bus stairs, and instead of chasing after him, Osamu hung back as the others boarded. Suna was next in line, but Osamu caught his jacket sleeve and tugged him back.

“Hey. Rintarou.”

Suna paused with a foot on the lowest bus step. He glanced over his shoulder and moved aside, so Kosaku could climb on. “What?”

“Sorry we lost,” said Osamu.

Suna’s face scrunched. “What’s that supposed to mean? Not like it was your fault.”

“Yeah, it was mostly Atsumu’s.”

Suna snorted, although Osamu didn’t mean that and Suna must have known. “Sure it was.”

“Even though we lost,” said Osamu, “can I kiss ya anyway?”

Suna glanced around. A couple of their teammates were loitering nearby instead of boarding the bus. Aran was inside, fighting to open one of the windows. Atsumu was making ugly faces at them through fingerprint-muddled glass. 

Suna’s eyes returned to Osamu, bright and sharp and flashing with a touch of a smile. “I won’t stop you.”

Osamu stepped close, before he could overthink it. His hand was at Suna’s waist, bunching into his jacket, and he dipped close to catch a taste of Suna’s mouth. It was warm and quick and a little awkward because they’d only ever done this in private, usually with the lights down so low that they could only feel rather than see the heat on each other’s faces. But Osamu knew everyone could see it now, because his cheeks were scalding as he took a step back. Suna was more composed, a little smirk twisting the corner of his mouth as he turned back toward the bus steps. Atsumu’s voice was audible through the window but Osamu didn’t look at him. He followed Suna to the back row and plopped down beside him, keeping his stare level with his own knees until Suna reached out a hand.

Osamu considered it, only for a second. He slipped his fingers between Suna’s and exhaled, and despite the loss, he felt lighter than he had in days. Maybe keeping this a secret had weighed him down more than he’d realized.

Atsumu’s head popped over the row of seats in front of them. Osamu glared up at him, expecting shock or outrage or maybe even anger.

But Suna had been right, as he usually was. Osamu hadn’t given his brother enough credit.

“So.” Atsumu’s grin was fox-like. “Does this mean I can stop pretendin’ I didn’t notice you two idiots sneakin’ around for the past six months?”

Osamu’s glare went sharper. “You did not, ya filthy liar.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid like you, ‘Samu. I see the way you get all awkward when I walk in on ya. And the way you stare at Sunarin all starry-eyed and gross when you think he’s not payin’ attention.” Atsumu expertly dodged Osamu’s fist and popped back up immediately. “And I know you were makin’ out in the storage closet that one time when I had to get the air pump.”

Osamu remembered that specifically. One of Suna’s hands had been in Osamu’s shirt and Osamu had contemplated a hundred ways to murder his brother when he’d burst through the closet door and interrupted them.

“Wow,” said Suna flatly. “You do know how to keep your mouth shut every now and then. You should do it more often.”

“Be nice to me Sunarin, we’re practically family now.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” said Osamu. He was more embarrassed than he should have been. He couldn't believe he’d spent so much time trying to cover his tracks for nothing. 

Atsumu shrugged. “I thought it was kinda funny. You seemed like you were havin’ a good time bein’ all secretive. I didn’t wanna ruin it for ya. Young love, huh? How roman-  _ Oww _ , that hurt, you jerk!” Atsumu lunged over the back of the seat to slap Osamu back before withdrawing.

“I hate him,” mumbled Osamu, slumping back.

Suna was smiling, just barely. “Sure you do.” He squeezed Osamu’s hand. “Told you he’d be okay with it.”

Osamu elbowed him, more gently than he would have done with anyone else. “Don’t you start bein’ a jerk too. I can only stomach one at a time.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll never be on Atsumu’s level, even at my worst.”

Osamu grinned and leaned into him before kicking the back of Atsumu’s seat. “It’s been a year dumbass, not six months.”

Atsumu’s head emerged again. “No way. Now you’re the one who’s lyin’. I woulda noticed.”

“You’re so fulla yourself it’s a miracle you’ve ever noticed anything that’s not your own ugly face.”

They bickered until the bus eased into motion, and would have continued indefinitely if Aran hadn’t plopped a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder and coaxed him back into his seat.

They’d only been on the road for twenty minutes before Suna’s eyes grew heavy, his head drooping. Osamu maneuvered an arm around Suna’s shoulders and pulled him in. 

“Don’t let Atsumu take pictures of me while I’m sleeping,” mumbled Suna, as he burrowed more comfortably against Osamu. 

“I’ve got ya, don’t worry.”

Suna hummed, and five minutes later he was dozing. Osamu closed his eyes too, because this was the most comfortable he’d been in a long time.

It wasn’t until Osamu woke up in Hyogo that he realized he’d fallen asleep, and he knew before he even checked his phone what he would find. There were no less than twenty pictures of him and Suna sleeping on each other, most of them from Atsumu, a few from their other teammates captioned with various heart emojis. Osamu pretended to sulk, but he was quietly relieved that no one seemed offended or surprised. 

He also kicked Atsumu in the shins for taking embarrassing pictures, although Osamu wasn’t embarrassed at all.

He saved them all in his phone, because despite the awkward angle of Osamu’s neck, they weren’t that bad. They were the first pictures of Osamu and Suna together. The heavily filtered selfies they’d taken in private didn’t count.

When they stepped off the bus, Osamu kept hold of Suna’s hand and no one spared them a second glance. 

Maybe they hadn’t won the tournament, but Osamu hadn’t walked away empty-handed. 

  
  



End file.
